What They Deserve
by junienmomo
Summary: COMPLETE. Slight future fic. Lorelai and Luke are married and have a child, a boy. Just a few chapters. Fluff. Addresses the question "What would life be like if the Gilmore-Danes progeny weren't as perfect as most fanfic likes to show?"
1. Diaper Rash

WTD 1 What They Deserve

 **A/N** : A near-future fic, lots of fluff and schmaltz. Luke and Lorelai with Charlie, their first boy.

* * *

Lorelai loved Luke with all her heart. Luke returned the sentiment with a devotion that would go down in history. Their love was one for the ages.

That's why Lorelai reviewed her options carefully before making her decision. She weighed first one option, then another, rejecting one, adding a third to her list of choices.

She eyed the larger stainless-steel baby wipes container Emily had insisted on giving them, but decided against it, again in deference for the love that would surely be memorialized in songs, poems and stories over the next decades.

She had successfully fought off her mother's idea of decorating the nursery with a chandelier, wooden locomotive crib (although Luke did think twice about that one), instead letting her provide the cradle and the changing station. Emily accomplished both tasks with aplomb and a huge pile of money.

The cradle was a hand-carved yacht tender, which was mysteriously spirited off to Luke's office after Charlie outgrew it. When confronted, Luke ranted about the need to start a boat-building project for him and Charlie, and declared the cradle to be the model from which they would work.

The changing table was a modern technological miracle, incorporating countless drawers and shelves. There was a built-in baby scale set to report his weight wirelessly to Mom's laptop (Emily had of course arranged for a hacker to make sure the data would be sent to her as well); also a baby monitor built-in which reported Charlie's temperature and general health status. Lorelai had at least discovered and removed Emily's hidden webcam, which was tucked into a hideously ugly recreation of Gainsborough's Blue Boy and had been hanging in Richard's office when Emily decided the equally-ugly Rory painting needed to be part of a set.

The hardware for the baby wipes, lotion, cotton balls and other items was quite beautiful and more functional than anything she'd had for Rory, either in Hartford or Stars Hollow.

Her love for Luke (and a slight concern that his head might dent the beautiful wipes container, forcing another painful discussion with her mother) motivated her to choose the least of all evils. Picking up the smallest plastic box of baby wipes, she hefted it in her hand, assessing its potential impact. Perfect.

Luke walked past her briskly, carrying a basket full of neatly-folded laundry. Lorelai swore under her breath as she heard him singing "Wasting away again in Margaritaville" in a soft but still remarkably in-tune and quite beautiful voice. Head or butt? Head or butt?

Butt. She launched the plastic box of baby wipes at Luke's perfect butt, malevolently delighting in the fact that his perfect butt was also a perfectly-sized target. It also ensured that the noise-canceling headphones Luke was currently wearing wouldn't be damaged. It would be her turn to wear them in just a few more minutes.

Practice had improved her accuracy and the box landed dead in the center of his left cheek. A bruise strategically located there would cause Luke to roll over in his sleep in the perfect position for spooning his wife of three years. Lorelai Danes was still as ultra-organized as she had been during Rory's baby years. Everything in its place, even the bruises.

"Dammit, Lorelai!" he sputtered as he vainly tried to right the basket of laundry. He ripped the noise-canceling headphones from his ears.

When he noticed her dripping face, he pulled a clean diaper out of the stack and came to her without cracking a smile or saying a word. Wrapping one arm around her waist to soothe her, he gently wiped her face dry, patting down all the other wet areas he could see without saying a word. He knew when silence was the only acceptable response. He also knew that giving her a consoling kiss would be completely revolting.

"He's aiming again," she growled as he returned from finding her a fresh shirt. "I think he waits until I'm not looking before he lets loose."

"No, you heard the doctor, it's simply that he reacts when the cold air hits his little shaker of salt, doesn't it, big guy?" Luke took over the changing while Lorelai went into the bathroom and cleaned herself up.

"Seriously, Luke, are you kidding me?" She stood in the doorway to the bathroom holding the shirt he had given her, a T-shirt that had been too tight since the third month of her pregnancy.

"What do you think about that, Charles Thomas? Mommy thinks that Daddy is a big kidder, but he isn't, now, is he? Nope. Daddy never kids. He likes Mommy in that T-shirt and he wants to take full advantage of it before she completely stops nursing you."

Lorelai sighed, her voice muffled as she pulled the shirt over her head. "Enjoy while you've got it, boys, they're getting smaller every day." She tugged the bottom of the shirt down, trying to cover the vestiges of baby fat that made her belly slightly round.

Luke carried Charlie to Lorelai, rubbing his hand affectionately over her exposed skin before wrapping his arm around her waist and zerberting her. He made the same sound on Charlie's tummy, planting a kiss on it, then blowing air out to make a fart sound.

Daddy's silliness didn't slow Charlie down at all. At nearly 11 months old, he kept up a steady stream of sounds from the moment he woke until his eyes reluctantly fell shut at nap time and bed time. Today he merely took a break from nonsense words and began giggling as Luke's stubble tickled Charlie's belly.

"What's the score today?" asked Luke. Lorelai had spent most of the day with Charlie and always had the latest stats for her husband of four years.

"I win!" she crowed. "43 Ma-Mas, 35 Da-Das, and even a few Ro-Ros when Rory and Jess visited."

Charlie obliged his mother with a stream of Wo-wo-wo-wos. Luke picked up the noise-canceling headphones off the floor and handed them to Lorelai.

"You're going to need these if you want to get any work done tonight," he advised.

"I know," she pouted, "but I could listen to him all day."

"Those headphones keep me sane some days," replied her husband. "Best gift you ever bought me. That kid takes after you with the talking thing."

"Rory didn't talk all the time," she protested. "She was a very quiet baby."

"Probably couldn't get a word in edgewise," he gibed as he hastened out the door to take Charlie for a walk. Charlie's goodbye was a series of Da-da-da-da-das which essentially guaranteed that Luke would win the day after all.

Lorelai slammed the bedroom door behind him, muttering, "Next time it's back to the Emily baby wipe container."

* * *

 **A/N** : I hope you liked it. It comes from the thought that maybe the L/L gene mix might not result in the sweet perfect kids that seem to be prevalent in fanfic.


	2. Doose's Market

WTD 2 What They Deserve

* * *

"What's your name, little man?" asked the elderly customer, bending over to give Charlie a chance to talk.

"Thomas!" the two and a half year old said softly, hiding his face in his father's pants leg as he stood on Luke's foot. Luke looked down questioningly at Charlie. This was new, Charlie taking on his middle name.

"Well, hello, Thomas, my name is Mr. Cole," the customer replied.

Charlie's eyes grew as big as saucers, but he eventually gave a half-smile just like his daddy's. Luke gently lifted his foot off the ground to let Charlie know they were going to the next table.

At that table, the two ladies sitting there had overheard the conversation and were happy to continue.

"Hi Thomas," said the younger woman. "Are you helping your papa?"

"No!" he shouted. "Charlie!" Jumping off Luke's foot, he stalked back over to the first customer, patted him on the knee and said, "Thomas!"

Mr. Cole, who had not been paying attention to the other table, replied, "No, my name is Mr. Cole."

Charlie scowled, looking more like Luke than ever. "No! No, no no!" Back to the ladies, where he repeated "Charlie!"

Still scowling, he went back to Mr. Cole for another round of "Thomas!"

Luke scooped him up as Charlie eyed the women and deposited him safely in Jess' arms, saying, "Here. Your cousin is having an identity crisis. Deal with it."

Until this moment, Jess had established a stronghold on the table back in the far corner and had spent the morning writing in his notebook. He'd been dragged to Stars Hollow by his wife to "keep Luke company" while she went shopping with Lorelai. Jess stood Charlie up on his knees.

"Congrats, buddy, you figured out at two what it took Sartre years to do. Now, go! Be!" he philosophized, setting Charlie down on the floor again.

Charlie proceeded to terrorize the diners with his rendition of 'Go! Be!' which became "Go-Be! Go-Be! Go-be-go-be-go-be-go-be-go-be-go-be" until Luke's death stare got the snickering Jess off his butt.

"Upstairs or outside, Jess. Now!" he groused as he re-entered the dining area carrying multiple plates.

"No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no" became Charlie's mantra as Jess slung him over his shoulder and carried his unwilling cousin/stepbrother-in-law outside.

Luke wearily set the last two plates on Babette's and Morey's table, saying wistfully, "Remember when the only running commentary we had here was Lorelai's? Who knew that those were the peaceful days?"

Morey chuckled as Babette cracked, "Sugar, you two made a real firecracker there. Your good looks and Lorelai's yap. Sometimes ya get the kid ya deserve."

Luke watched Jess and Charlie outside as Charlie jumped up, trying to see inside the diner. Jess grabbed his hands, holding him high enough to see Babette and Morey waving at him. He wandered back to the counter mumbling, "Peace and quiet. That's what I deserved."

* * *

Jess and his cousin wandered first across the street to the playground, where Charlie proceeded to pull the rubber bulbs off the Banyan boys' bicycle horns before sliding them between the slats below the gazebo.

Clambering his way to the gazebo itself Charlie was heard screeching at the top of his lungs while bouncing in place, unknowingly replaying the great street bounce scene of 2001 when Rory and Lorelai bounced in the streets in their excitement over their newly formed, soon to end in disaster relationships.

Next stop was Doose's Market, where Charlie's love of fruit, which came from Daddy, and his utter lack of belief in consequences, which came from Mama, caused a spike in Taylor Doose's blood pressure.

"Once a hoodlum, always a hoodlum," Taylor remarked snidely as he sanctimoniously presumed that Jess and not the lack of fruit stand construction permits was the reason for his whole apple display rolling across the street.

He chased the apples while Charlie determined that the flimsy crates Taylor had used for years were a perfect fit to play hide the baby, having plucked the small baby doll from the carriage of the baby of the clueless Lindsey, who had happily married loose-lipped Shane's equally slutty brother a year after she divorced Dean. Charlie then squatted in the next empty crate, watching the ankles of passers-by.

"I try to be good, Mr. Doose, but the world just won't let me," smirked the business owner and published author, who had bought a piece of the Truncheon Books publishing empire right after his book, The Subsect, had become big in Germany (former East Germany only) and curiously enough Armenia, which had the benefit of being group-translated by the family of the owners of the Armenian pizza parlor below Jess' apartment. Their elder daughter had dated Jess for a good six months followed quickly by a rather murky two months, ending disastrously in what looked like a classic Rory Gilmore relationship blunder – she ran away from Jess.

Even though Taylor had never fallen for either the Gilmore's nor Luke's stunning blue eyes, he was a pushover for Charlie's baby blues.

"Well, who do we have here?" he said, bending over to greet the young man. "Are you little Charlie Danes?"

"No!" shouted the toddler. "No! No! No! No!" he repeated, echoing his father's epic failure to prevent Doose from opening the Soda Shoppe. "No! Taywo, No!"

"Aw, well isn't that just so cute? He's trying to say my name. Now Charlie, you have to respect your elders. You should call me Mr. Doose."

Jess kept a straight mouth when he noticed the toddler-rant building inside of Charlie. This moment was going to be all mini-Luke.

"Mr. Doose. Can you say that, Charlie? Doose. Doo-se. Doo-se. C'mon, Charlie, start with Do as in Doo-se. You can say Do, right?"

* * *

"What the hell do you want now, Taylor? I already said no decorations. Also no to the commemorative plate shop you want to open above the ice cream shop." He glared at Taylor for emphasis as he removed dirty dishes from the table near where Doose stood. "Who would even consider climbing stairs to buy commemorative plates?"

"That … that … HOODLUM!" Taylor sputtered. "He's destroyed my fruit stand! How can you let him corrupt your son like that?"

"Who, Jess? You think he gives a damn about your pathetic chemical-laden, mealy, non-organic fruit? That man can buy and sell you three times over, Taylor."

"You haven't heard the end of this, Luke Danes," warned Taylor as he stormed out of the diner.

A few minutes later Jess and Charlie returned to the diner, big grins on both their faces, Charlie chattering away to himself quietly as he hopped up the stairs.

"There's my big guy," cooed Luke as they came through the door.

"Gee, thanks, Uncle Luke," replied Jess, "Nice of you to notice."

"Ha ha," said his uncle, his standard eye roll accompanied by Jess' equally standard wry smile. Since Jess had settled into adulthood, their relationship had become as easygoing and open as any two Danes men could ever get. This basically meant that they didn't talk unless absolutely necessary or when their wives insisted on family time. Even then a few grunts followed by them disappearing on some important hardware or household maintenance task generally sufficed to restore domestic harmony.

"What's this about Taylor's fruit stand?" asked Luke. "He shouldn't be allowed to leave that crap on the sidewalk all day."

Jess shrugged. "Charlie and I were just minding our own business when the stand collapsed on itself. Taylor claimed that I did it, but Charlie was the only one near the stand."

Luke looked sharply at his nephew. "He wasn't in any danger, right?"

"Well, it might have been that Charlie wasn't actually near the stand at the time the apples fell, and maybe there was a little flick of my wrist at a strategic moment. Maybe." His gaze was steady, but a spark of humor blazed in Jess' eyes.

"Ah, I see," said Luke, satisfied that Charlie hadn't been in danger and there was plausible deniability when it came to guilt. "Feels like old times."

He handed Charlie a clean dishtowel to play with. "So, big guy, did you talk to Taylor today?" he asked as he squatted near his son, almost eye to eye.

"Taywo No!" replied Charlie with a giggle. He looked adoringly at his hero and father, sending a chill down Luke's spine from the sheer emotion of the moment. He refused to lose it in the middle of his own diner, exposing his sappy side to one and all, still belligerently in denial about the fact that everyone already knew he was a softy.

"Taywo Do!" blurted Charlie, proud of his newly-learned word. "Taywo Dodo! Taywo Dodo! Taywo Dodo! Taywo Dodo!" he chanted as he hefted the dishtowel above his head and bounced up and down.

Neither Jess nor Luke could hold back the laughter then. Luke grabbed Charlie and tossed him in the air, catching him safely. "That's the best thing I've heard all day, buddy," he said. "You are so smart! You're going to give Rory a run for her money one day."

Jess flipped the dishtowel over Charlie's face, inspiring another series of giggles.

"Hey, Charlie, you hungry?" asked Luke. "I've got your favorite food upstairs."

Charlie had inherited his mother's appetite and his father's energy, so he answered enthusiastically in the affirmative.

"Jess, you can cover down here for a few minutes?"

Jess nodded, pulling out his notebook again, settling at the counter where he could keep an eye on the customers.

"Whaddya think, Charlie, climb or fly?"

"Fwy!" cried Charlie, waving the dishtowel like a superhero cape as Luke lifted him over his head and moved toward the staircase.

"Let's call Mommy and remind her what your favorite food is, too. She'll love to hear that. What's your favorite food again?"

"Tofu!" he squealed, spreading his arms like Superman flying as they went up the stairs.

* * *

 **A/N** : There's one more chapter in me, but it's not finished yet. If you have any thoughts of a scenario you'd like to see, let me know.


	3. The Grandparents

Wide-awake at 4:48 in the morning, Luke squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to ignore the day ahead. Curled up in a fetal position, he pushed all thoughts of the day away as he tried vainly to sleep a little more. Lorelai's sweet gentle huffs and snores soothed him, but only so far.

Sighing, he rolled over to lie flat on his back, flopping his arms to the side in a dramatic self-sacrificial gesture.

"Meep!"

Unfortunately that sacrificial gesture resulted in his right arm, Lorelai's favorite due to the tattoo that completely changed her mind about stick-in-the-mud Luke Danes, sealing his reputation as a sex god with mysterious 'bad boy' depths, accidentally landing flat on her stomach.

Normally 'Meep' was a sound Lorelai made during good times, indicating extreme pleasure or happiness.

Today, however, it meant "Oh my friggin' god what in the world are you thinking waking me up in the middle of the night after an evening spent trying to placate guests at the Dragonfly who had become incensed when Michel said 'Hello' in his usual French way but they understood his double entendre and realized the insult he had intended and would not be satisfied without a blood sacrifice." She was going miss Michel.

"Sorry sorry sorry!" said Luke contritely. A surfeit of kisses, further apologies and a promise to let her watch him eat a whole piece of pie by himself succeeded in Luke spooning a dozing Lorelai as he helped her go to sleep again.

"I don't want to go see your parents tonight," he groaned.

"Stop whining, you big baby. You know we have no choice." She pulled the comforter over her ear hoping that the extra layer of polyester fiberfill would muffle his whining.

Luke flipped his side of the comforter off his shoulder, still not satisfied with "It's not pretty enough" as a reason to not buy a good quality 100 percent goose down comforter, with the down given freely by free-range geese as a sort of "Locks of Love" for aging hippies who stopped needing to sleep on the ground under blankets of leaves and moss once they had given into corporate culture and discovered that money actually can buy something pretty close to happiness.

"First I hate that I have to open the diner since I won't be there tonight to close. Morning with you and Charlie is my favorite part of the day."

Her peeved silence encouraged him. God, he loved this woman, always there for him when he needed her. She, on the other hand, contemplated the possibility of stuffing the comforter into his mouth in order to get him to shut up so she could sleep. There were moments when she missed her monosyllable man.

"Second, your parents are never going to change. It's the same thing every time. Every. Damn. Time."

"You know we have no choice, Luke. The minute we try to skip these dinners all hell breaks loose."

"I know," he sighed resignedly, tucking his aquiline nose into her coconut-scented locks. He fell asleep strategizing ways to make sure Lorelai chose a sugar-free pie for him to eat.

* * *

"Just one more minute. Don't ring the doorbell yet. We've got time. It's not seven." Luke was nauseated not only from the agonizing evening ahead of him, but also the huge piece of pecan pie Lorelai had forced him to eat.

"Man up, Luke, the sooner we start, the sooner it ends." She adjusted his tie and kissed the tip of his nose trying to soften the scowl on his face. It didn't seem like a very good idea to kiss him on the lips, given the greenish tint to his skin that he acquired after eating his punishment pie.

Lorelai checked Luke's tie, then bent down to Charlie. She tugged his jacket down in back, adjusted his tie and kissed the tip of his nose. No need to kiss a scowl away, Charlie's eyes were as big as saucers and the excitement was evident on his face.

Luke hefted him by the armpits so Charlie could ring the doorbell.

A maid had clearly been staked at the door because it opened instantaneously.

Holding tightly to Charlie's hands they moved to the elegant hallway, its giant staircase curving imperiously to the second floor.

Imperious herself, Emily stood exactly two stairsteps up from the ground floor as she monitored their entry.

The four year old Charlie fairly shook as his muscles tensed. Luke and Lorelai exchanged glances, then at her nod, released Charlie's hands.

"Gamma!" he screeched as he flew to her side.

"Charlie!" Emily opened her arms wide, gracefully descending the final steps and bending low to embrace her grandson.

His mouth began moving with the countless things he needed to tell his beloved grandmother as the two began chattering about everything and nothing.

"Charlie, your grandfather is waiting for you in your playroom," she said. "Shall we go find him?"

"Yes, we shall," he answered trying to mimic his grandfather by standing as tall as he could and looking down his nose at his grandmother.

They walked around the staircase, Emily tossing one comment over her shoulder as they left. "You know where the drinks are. We eat at seven."

Luke guided his wife into the living room where they discovered Rory and Jess sitting on one of the slippery sofas. He and Lorelai took seats in the armchairs on either side of the sofa; Luke stretched his legs out as far as they would go, deliberately kicking Jess' feet. "Hey, keep those things on your side of the table," he joked.

"Aunt Lorelai," smirked Jess, "have you been feeding Uncle Luke sugar again? You know he's uncontrollable when he gets all hopped up on the stuff."

"Don't call me Uncle Luke," growled Luke.

Jess lifted his eyebrows innocently. "Aw, gee, thanks. I guess I'll just call you 'Mom' and 'Dad' from now on?" He snickered as his in-laws both gave him death stares.

"I've got Ritalin on order. We'll see if it calms him down," replied Lorelai casually. Turning to Rory, she added, "How long have you been here?"

Rory didn't bother to sit up from her slumped position, nor did she crack a smile. "One martini, two "Why aren't you pregnant yet?" one business card of a fertility expert, a lecture on giving birth in a hot tub, and two pair of booties, one pink and one blue." She drained her glass and headed to the bar cart for a refill. Slightly unsteady from her near-chugging of the first martini, she spilled a little onto the cart, which she wiped up with one of the booties.

"Life's a bitch when you're not the favorite anymore," commented Lorelai, not unkindly. Joining her daughter at the bar, she poured a double bourbon for Luke and a dirty martini for herself, setting the glasses down on the glass coffee table.

Life hadn't been unkind to Rory. She'd parlayed her presidential campaign gig into a permanent writing/editing job in Boston. A couple of years ago she and Jess ran into each other at Luke and Lorelai's Thanksgiving blowout bash. Jess had spiked pretty much every beverage in the house and once they had gotten a naked Kirk and Patty off the roof (don't ask), Rory and Jess decided to check out a midnight showing of Rocky Horror. They carried on a heated online affair between Boston and Philadelphia for several months, culminating in an exclusive committed relationship right after Rory dumped Logan (for his over-the-top escapades while drinking) and later Marty (for his lack of escapades because he didn't drink).

Jess, who apparently struck the right balance between escapades and alcohol, won her heart quickly, and before long they were engaged in a very mature fashion, which for both Jess and Rory meant that they were able to say "I love you" without either of them running away.

Jess went to Lorelai to ask for her blessing, which she did not give, saying that she was very proud of how much he'd grown since leaving Stars Hollow, but that Rory probably wasn't yet ready for a permanent relationship, because she had neither her first Pulitzer nor the chief editing job at the New York Times.

Rory went to Luke for his blessing, which he also did not give, because he thought Rory was too good for Jess and was still kind of ticked off about the way Jess had left his crap lying around when he lived in Stars Hollow and the hearing damage Jess' music had given him.

Neither Emily nor Richard gave their blessing either, using the word 'hoodlum' rather excessively. The extensive background check that Emily ordered on Jess earned her a month-long stay at a rehab clinic after she was discovered drunkenly casting spells on him in the name of Trix at the annual DAR picnic.

Jess' mother Liz, on the other hand, thought that their engagement was cool, mellow and groovy. TJ drew them an engagement portrait on his Etch-a-Sketch, but unfortunately dropped it before Rory could discover that all of TJ's portraits bear a strong resemblance to Spongebob Squarepants.

Christopher's only reaction was to tell Jess how cool his leather jacket was and ask if Lorelai was available to have a private parental discussion on this the occasion of his daughter's wedding, preferably at a pied-a-terre in Paris, and, if she agreed, could Christopher please borrow Jess' leather jacket for the occasion.

All of these authority figures changed their opinions eventually. Luke and Lorelai had a big fight when they heard what the other had said, but realized that make-up sex was far more fun than actually resolving the disagreement. Emily and Richard needed only to hear about Jess' business success and financial windfall to suddenly bribe certain DAR bigwigs to ignore the more salacious details. Liz was bummed when TJ's suggestion for air pants at the wedding was flatly rejected by her son. Christopher, being rather less an authority figure and more of a giant dick, ironically enough inversely proportional to his actual size, said nothing.

After these early bobbles, Emily's vision of an Audrey Hepburn style Rory/Jess wedding went off without too many hitches, excepting a wedding-crashing Logan who hooked up with Shane, and TJ, who inadvertently forgot even his air pants.

Since then, Rory and Jess made their home in Boston, where Jess opened a new Truncheon headquarters and they lived happily until Emily began the baby pressure. Charlie had been established as the favorite grandchild as soon as he fell in love with everything Emily and Richard did for him, but a few months after Rory's wedding they began dropping hints for their first great-grandchild.

Seven o'clock came and went without Emily's appearance. Freda, the German maid, came servilely into the room at the appointed time, but when she saw that Emily was not present, she abruptly turned and stomped away, muttering obscene-sounding German words about stupid Americans who wouldn't know what a schedule was if it came up and bit them in the arsch and how her sauerbraten and potato dumplings (Charlie's favorite) were going to be ruined. Jess and Luke began to bicker over the few nuts left in the bowl.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" cried Charlie ecstatically, waving a red crystal glass apple in his hands. "Gamma gave me an apple! Look at the apple, Mama, look at the apple!"

Lorelai lovingly caught her beloved son up in her arms and hugged her to him. "That is a pretty apple, baby boy. Shall we ask Daddy to cook it up into a pie tomorrow?" she teased.

Charlie exchanged a knowing look with Emily. "Oh Mama, don't be silly. It's glass. You can't cook a glass apple, right Gamma?"

"Hey buddy, what happened to your clothes?" asked Luke.

Charlie twisted the exquisite Murano glass apple carelessly in his hands as a beaming Emily watched in approval. "Got dirty," he commented nonchalantly as he straightened the tiny tweed jacket and bow tie that his grandparents had dressed him in. "Simple cloth gets dirty," he quoted his grandmother as he looked at his beloved papa through the vintage handcrafted glass worth more than Luke's whole outfit.

Lorelai and Luke exchanged eye rolls as Rory's stomach growled her need to increase the food to alcohol ratio in her body.

Richard came into the living room carrying a pint-sized Louis Vuitton rollaway suitcase.

"Luke, my boy!" he boomed as he approached.

Luke stood to greet his father-in-law, but instead of a handshake Richard dropped the suitcase into Luke's outstretched hand. Surprised at the weight, he nearly dropped it, lowering it awkwardly to the ground.

"We picked up a couple of things for Charlie which need to go home with him tonight," added the taller man who was not coincidentally dressed exactly like his grandson.

Luke began drawing up plans in his head for an extension to the Crap Shack's garage for storing the countless gifts flowing from Emily and Richard. He turned to move the suitcase off to the side of the room as Richard took Charlie from Lorelai's arms and sat him upon his shoulder.

"Charlie, my good man, are you ready for dinner?" he asked affectionately.

"My good man," repeated Charlie, patting his grandfather on the nose.

"I hope that Freda has managed to cook an edible meal this time," huffed Emily. "It's like she's left the food standing for ages sometimes. Honestly, Germans have no sense of timing. I have no idea what all this nonsense is about German trains running like clockwork."

Freda appeared again, suitably servile. "Dinner is served, madam."

"Charlie, honey, let's put that apple down on the table," suggested Lorelai.

"Okay, Mama."

In a moment worthy of The Matrix, time in the Gilmore household slowed down to a crawl.

Emily and Richard fawned over their grandson as if nothing at all unusual was going on.

Luke's eyes widened as he realized what his wife had said.

Jess smirked as he saw the action begin to play out.

Lorelai stared dumbly at Luke as he lithely performed a cat-like maneuver, twisting his body in mid-air as he jumped towards Charlie, stretching his hands out in his best baseball form as if he were single-handedly going to win the seventh game of the World Series on this one catch alone.

Rory drained her martini glass, and having no other place to put them, stuffed the booties in her brassiere as she careened toward the dining room.

Charlie, still in his grandfather's arms, let go of the apple, some four feet about the antique glass coffee table.

Jess covered his face with his arms.

Luke missed both the table and apple completely, landing heavily on the floor with just enough time to protect his eyes.

The apple landed on the table, first creating a beautiful spiderweb pattern as the cracks spread from the point of impact to all corners of the table. The apple itself broke into an explosion of red fireworks arching back up into the air, to Charlie's delight.

Emily and Richard, still holding Charlie and smiling at him, turned toward the dining room.

Lorelai closed her eyes as the last of the glass fell slowly to the floor, leaving bits and pieces on her husband as he lay there wishing he could just dig his way back to Stars Hollow.

"Lorelai," said Emily as she left the room.

"Got it, Mom. I'll call Mrs. Kim tomorrow and make an appointment for us. Turn of the century, right?"

She knelt beside Luke, brushed the glass off his shoulder and helped him up. "Nice try, hon. Did you hurt your back?"

"Little bit." He banged his head against the floor a few times. "Can we please not visit your parents for a very very long time?"

"Sure, but you have to break it to Charlie. I'm not going to help you with the temper tantrum this time."

Lorelai rubbed Luke's back as they moved slowly to the dining room. "At least it's only the fourth table so far this year. Much better than last year."

* * *

A/N: Meep is for DSLeo, as always.

Funny how much grandparents can overlook when it comes to grandkids, isn't it? Thus ends my exploration of javajunkie babies. This story is complete, unless some other idea pops into my head at a future time.


End file.
